All the Dreams that Might Have Been Redux
by Francienyc
Summary: A re-imagining of the sequel to "Caspian's Queen." If Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace had returned to Narnia with the Dawn Treader. Chapter 9: Eustace struggles with being Narnian and observe Lucy struggling with something else.
1. Three Years Later

_A/N: Every time I return to "All the Dreams..." it frustrates me to no end. The story lacks cohesion and is thinly plotted. I'm so pleased so many people love it (it is the most-reviewed and most favorited of all my stories), but I feel like it could be so much better. Originally when I started writing it I had sequel syndrome, which means basically that the story existed only as a continuation of the first part, "Caspian's Queen" and not as a story in its own right. I've reimagined the plot a bit so that this story is more compelling, and as I now have the whole thing laid out I'm hoping it will be more unified. I'm not taking down the original because it's so different and so many people have favorited it, but I offer this as a different--and I think better--option. I'm curious to know what you all think. We begin, as the title suggests, three years after the end of "Caspian's Queen."

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Three Years Later

_Lucy_

"Hair like spun gold, she has."

"Eyes like the sky on a fair morning."

"Poets! You are admiring the wrong features."

I heard the whispers as I walked past and I blushed furiously, especially at the last one. I knew my dress was too low-cut, but my maids coaxed me into it. Now everyone was staring. A musician somewhere trilled a lute and started to warble a tune about a beautiful lady who melted hearts as Narnia's ice melted. I wanted to tell him that song was written about Susan, but I didn't. I was too busy trying not to trip on my dress. As queen in my own right I had changed the fashion to make the skirts a bit shorter and more manageable. Susan still wore her trailing gowns, but I liked something I could move in. This dress, however, was Telmarine in style, with much less than I was used to on the top and a dozen trailing layers of skirt on the bottom. I could feel the eyes of every man in the room on me, and nothing was more uncomfortable. I was used to people looking at me as a queen, as a girl, as a warrior but never as a woman.

At last I reached the end of the Great Hall where Edmund was waiting for me. Beyond him I could see Caspian on his throne, grinning away.

Edmund raised his brows, appraising me as he offered his arm. "That's quite a dress."

"Don't start, " I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. I felt my cheeks go redder, and Edmund snickered.

He led me to the thrones. Though his expression was perfectly serious as he announced me to Caspian, who was perched in Peter's old place on a throne built from the crumbling remains of my brother's.

"Your Majesty," Edmund said in his clear king voice. "I bring before you my sister, Lucy of Narnia, once rightful Queen at Cair Paravel in the Golden Age of Narnia. Today is her sixteenth birthday, and she has reached womanhood. We ask for your blessing."

"What recommends her to us?" Caspian answered. I had already been through this ritual once before with Peter, and Caspian spoke with the same thinly veiled humor at all the ceremony. I glanced at him and had to repress a smile, just as he was.

Edmund grinned, clearly enjoying himself as he began to list my deeds. This was the Narnian tradition: when a girl turned sixteen she was recommended to the Kings and Queens with a list of all the accomplishments she had made, just as with boys at eighteen. I was not surprised to find that the Telmarines had no such tradition, and I was eager that Caspian should reinstate it for Narnian girls. At the time I was only thirteen, and I didn't think of having to do it myself.

Edmund's list was quite long, and it made me blush: "Healed the many wounded at both battles of Beruna…Captained the archers at the siege of Anvard….Communed with Aslan…sailed to the edge of the world on the Dawn Treader…"

Everyone in the hall was watching me with growing awe, a reaction Edmund was clearly relishing. I was a little uncomfortable. I was never really one to boast, which was probably why he was having so much fun. As for me, I didn't quite know where to look. I tried Eustace, but his eyes were huge. Every so often he got a reminder of the other life we had lived, the one that made us more than just his cousins, and it never failed to surprise him. Therefore, watching Eustace did not help my discomfort. I looked at Caspian instead. He was sitting back in his throne, watching me intently. His dark eyes were very warm. There was a small smile on his lips, and his mouth was tight as if he were keeping himself from saying something. I met his look and pursed my lips, daring him to. His smile widened, and I wanted to laugh.

When Edmund finished his catalogue, Caspian jumped up. He was always a very eager king—he did things with alacrity and not Peter's stately gravity or Edmund's careful thought. No, Caspian was more like me.

"I cannot welcome someone who is in her own home. This castle has been yours since it was built and rebuilt, and we Narnians are all the richer for having you in it a second time."

It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me. Caspian grinned, and his eyes sparkled as he raised his cup. "I salute you, Queen Lucy of Narnia."

Everyone echoed the toast, which made me blush again. I glanced at Edmund, who looked at me sidewise as he drank. "As if you haven't been through all this before," he muttered.

The dancing began after that. I always loved dancing dearly, and I danced happily with whoever claimed a dance. Edmund had the first turn, as was his right, and he spun me round the room in one of the ancient dances so popular when we were King and Queen. He winked at me as the Telmarine nobles murmured in appreciation. I didn't care about their reaction; I was having too good a time. The breeze from my quick steps tickled my hot cheeks and I could feel my hair fanning out behind me, my skirts twirling around me. The music was in my hears but the beat was inside my chest, pulsing out to my feet. The faces around me were a blur except for my partner's. I danced with poor leaden-footed Eustace, who couldn't abandon himself to anything, least of all dancing. I danced with Trufflehunter and Trumpkin and with the crew of the _Dawn Treader_, Rynelf and Rhince and Drinian. Dancing with them reminded me of dancing on the deck of the ship, reviving the songs of Old Narnia as we sailed to the Utter East, under constellations few had ever seen before. Those ancient tunes were the songs playing that night, and they were very merry, even though I missed Reepicheep's shrill humming. Or, even further back in my memory, Peter's deep, resonant voice.

I realized eventually that I was dancing more and more to new Narnian music with Telmarine Lords I did not really know. The trilling guitars required a more purposeful dance, and my partners looked into my eyes as they tried to lead me. Although this was a natural part of the dance, it was perhaps something in the look in their eyes, an appraising expression that reminded me of Edmund when he was choosing a new sword, the way he looked at it from all angles, testing its weight and giving a few practice swings. These lords were flawlessly polite, but they made me very mindful of my manners and my steps.

I was grateful when we sat down to the banquet, where I had a place between Caspian and Edmund and there were no more men steering me, only good conversation and lots of reminiscing. We regaled each other with our adventures, and everyone wanted to hear the stories for the hundredth time. We told the tale of Susan's horn and how Caspian called us back; we spoke of al lthe adventures on the _Dawn Treader_: the retaking of Narrowhaven, Eustace battling the sea serpent, the Monopods, the feast at Aslan's Table and the merpeople at the bottom of the sea. Then, as I did at every feast, I told the story of the Wardrobe, and the Lamp Post and the finding of Narnia. Caspian was hungry for more stories of the Golden Age and we told them gladly, Edmund and I. Edmund told of the trip to Tashbaan and the finding of the lost prince of Archenland and the siege of Anvard.

Edmund didn't often choose to tell stories, but when he did it was a treat. He could do all sorts of different voices and was excellent at imitating, so with a flick of his wrist he captured Susan, with a toss of his head he conjured up Rabadash. What's more, he had such skill with words that he could conjure up a scene almost before our eyes. When he stood with his hands on his hips wearing an echo of Corin's smile I couldn't help but wonder why he chose that tale to tell. Storytelling suddenly grew very bittersweet. I wanted these people to be more than just characters or memories; I wanted them here with us. All of them: Peter and Susan and Corin and Cor and Peridan. My longing for them grew so much I was happy when the singers took their place and I found some distraction.

Later, as the party was nearing its end, I slipped out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air. All the memories of long gone friends were still with me. I closed my eyes and let the sound of waves crashing on the shore soothe me and the dimmed sounds of the party cheer me. It had been a wonderful birthday. I would go back inside and enjoy it in a minute, I promised myself.

"Are you alright Lucy?" a gently accented voice asked behind me. He spoke so softly I wasn't startled.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the moonlit sands. I rubbed my arms slowly. "Mmm."

I heard him step closer and then I felt the warmth of him behind me. "It is not like you to leave a party early," he observed.

I half turned to look up at Caspian, giving him a little half smile. I thought of telling him I simply needed some air or some other comment designed to deter him, but I couldn't do that to Caspian. Instead I asked, "Do you ever miss Reepicheep?"

He didn't give me an odd look or comment on the abruptness of my question, which was something I always liked about Caspian. "Of course I do," he said, his mouth in a grave line. "Every day."

"Me too," I whispered. He nodded, and then his wrapped his cloak around both of us. I leaned back against his solid chest. We stood like that for awhile in companionable silence.

"It seems to me you have a lot of people to miss in addition to Reepicheep," he murmured in my ear.

"Yes." I pulled his warm arms around me. "It's strange being sixteen again."

"That Corin in the story Edmund was telling—you knew him well."

I twisted my neck to look up at Caspian. "He was my best friend."

Something flashed through Caspian's eyes, so quick I almost though I imagined it. When he spoke, his voice was still calm, almost dreamy. "And your brother and sister—you must miss them as well."

I nodded again, thinking of Peter smiling so broadly as Edmund introduced me the first time, remembering Susan helping me into my dress and brushing my hair.

"Do you regret coming back? You could have gone home after reaching the end of the world." When I turned, Caspian's eyes were fixed on the horizon. He lowered his gaze to my face and I saw the anxiety in his expression. I couldn't believe he was nervous to hear my answer.

I turned to face him and gripped his forearm "_This_ is my home," I told him. "And if I had left, I wouldn't be any better off. I'd be missing you instead."

A slow grin spread across his face. "As I would miss you." He studied me a moment, the smile still on his lips. Then he jerked his head towards the beach. "Come. Perhaps it is time to make new memories instead of dreaming in old ones."

He drew me forward by the hand. I followed him willingly down to the silver beach. We kicked off our shoes and I shed a layer or two of petticoats. We played with the freezing waves, laughing. Then he caught me in his arms and we started dancing, falling into step naturally. Between giggles he hummed under his breath. I joined in , and we moved in graceful circles, the sand sticking between our toes. When I looked back, the sweep of my skirts made swirling patterns in the sand. The night was cold as it was only the first night of spring, but Caspian was warm.

When our toes were frozen we picked up our shoes and ran inside. We tucked ourselves before a fire and the servants shook their heads in bemusement as they brought us hot chocolate. I didn't care. I had Caspian to understand me, and that was enough. He could erase all the strange looks from men I didn't know, ease all my nostalgia. I looked up at him as we curled up together and felt a rush of happiness. Who else but Caspian would dance on the beach with me? He was so dear. I could never regret my decision to come back to the _Dawn Treader_ from the end of the world.


	2. What Happened at the End of the World

_What Happened at the End of the World_

_(A flashback)  
_

_Lucy_

_"And he said—he said—oh, I can't bear it. The worst thing he could have said. You're to go on—Reep and Edmund, and Lucy, and Eustace; and I'm to go back. Alone. And at once. And what is the good of anything?"_

_I thought my heart would break, but I couldn't cry. Not in front of all the crew. I had to be the brave queen. It had been terrible coming back through the wardrobe, landing on the wooden floor with a bump and finding myself a child again. The shock of that, though, had made me numb, and by the time the numbness passed, the edge of my grief had softened._

_Saying goodbye, knowing I might never come back, was almost unbearable. I don't know how I found the courage to give him comfort. I suppose it was that I couldn't bear to think of Caspian grieving. In all the hours we had spent together on the close quarters of the __Dawn Treader, I had seen each of his moods, every shade and nuance. I knew him as well as I knew my brothers and sister, as well as I knew myself. He had never been one to despair. Until now._

_He tried to be cheerful and brave for our sakes. As I said goodbye to everyone else, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He smiled for Reepicheep and laughed with Eustace and gripped Edmund's arm like a brother, but all the while I saw the sadness in his eyes. How could we be parting ways? How could the culmination of this adventure be farewell?_

_Then Edmund stepped away from Caspian and with a nod told me it was my turn to say goodbye. I came forward with my hands outstretched. "Oh, Caspian!"_

_His hands closed around mine, and I could feel every callus of adventure on them. I was seized by the desire to trace his hands, indeed every part of his body with my fingertips, to memorize him. His brown eyes were bright with sadness. His beauty struck me anew. Not only his handsomeness, but the way his goodness shone in his face, and how just by looking at him I could see how generous and noble and brave he was._

_We stared into each other's eyes. Neither of us could manage to say goodbye, or even imagine it. All there was in that moment was a drinking each other up, an attempt to memorize enough of each other to last through the solitary sunrises and sunsets that would come after this adventure. He leaned forward and pressed his warm lips to my forehead, and I felt the love in that kiss even if I didn't comprehend it. I can't say what drove me to capture his lips in a kiss except necessity. I had to. I had to know, had to share that with him. Dear, dear Caspian. His lips were soft and warm and dry, and there was a scent about him, a strong scent of light-water, and sea water, and something warm that was uniquely him._

_He walked me to the boat, holding my hand. He helped me in himself, and I remember how when he let go of my hand my skin felt suddenly cold. I couldn't take my eyes off him as they lowered the boat. His eyes were full of tears. I found my voice then and called goodbye over and over again, until I felt the boat bump gently onto the water, parting the lilies. Dimly I heard Drinian call "Shields and flags out!" and at once the __Dawn Treader was hung in all its finery. I cried then, as Edmund and Eustace rowed us away from the ship which had been home, away from Caspian, who had become family. The tears were strange, though. They ran down my cheeks, dripping onto my hands, but I couldn't feel them all the way inside me. I felt a tug as we reached the current and were pulled further east than any man had sailed before. I wanted to fill my head with memories of our adventures, but it was already too full of the Silver Sea, the wild smell and the brightness of it. This was our one last adventure, and I could not do anything but drink it all in._

_We sailed all through the night and the next day, and there was a sunrise so bright and full of liquid gold I thought it would swallow us. But I was not afraid. There is no such thing as fear at the end of the world. We came to the wall of water and the mountains behind the sun that reached beyond the sky. At last even the boat ran aground, and Reepicheep went on in his little coracle. Then we walked together—Edmund and Eustace and I—to the very end of the world. We waded in the water because we knew we must. We held hands._

_We met the lamb, and the whiteness of him that was almost too white for our sun-strong eyes turned to Aslan's gold, powerful and rich and so beautiful I couldn't stop looking at it. He told us we would always be heading towards Aslan's country. And then I asked him "Please, Aslan. Before we go, will you till us when he can come back to Narnia again? Please. And oh, do, do, do make it soon." For then I felt our departure, truly felt all that we were leaving behind and the ache of it was staggering._

_Aslan's gold eyes were grave. "Dearest, you and your brother will never come back to Narnia."_

_My heart broke. Never again. Never to return. No Aslan. No Cair Paravel, no Dancing Lawn, no Dawn Treader. Aslan assured me I could find him in England, and that was some comfort, until I thought, and voiced the thought:_

_"But what about Caspian?"_

_"Child," Aslan remonstrated gently, "Did I not tell you you would learn no one's story but your own?"_

_I nodded, bowing my head. I tried to prepare myself as he asked, but my shoulders shook with repressed sobs._

_"Dearest, you are still despairing. Have I not told you that we shall never be separated if you keep your heart open for me?" Aslan said, bending his head to mine._

_"Yes," I answered in a voice thick with tears. I reached out to finger his mane for comfort. I looked up into his large gold eyes and whispered "I could bear leaving Narnia, for myself. But I'm thinking of Caspian. He'll be all alone."_

_"Not so much as you think, dear one."_

_"I know. He'll have his friends and Ramandu's Daughter, I imagine. But Aslan, will there be someone to understand him? Tell me that and I'll go."_

_"You care greatly for him," Aslan observed. He looked at me hard, as if he were trying to read my heart. I almost flinched, but I stood my ground. I wanted him to know what I thought and felt, but that didn't necessarily make it any easier to undergo the examination._

_"Child," Aslan said at last, "What you would ask is not an easy path. For you, the way to my country is through your world."_

_"Yes, Aslan."_

_"Then you know you would have to say goodbye all over again, as you did before, to return to it."_

_I paused, chewing my lip. Is still felt the ache of leaving them behind the first time, no goodbye, not final farewell. Caspian came to mind, hanging over the side of the __Dawn Treader_ watching us go with tears streaming down his cheeks that matched my own. "I don't care. It was better to have known them as long as I did than not at all. However hard the parting, I would count each second a blessing." Edmund told me afterwards he had not seen me look so much like my old queenly self throughout the voyage.

_Aslan bowed his head. It seemed as though he was weighted down with thought. When at last he raised his head, he looked at Edmund and Eustace. "If she stays, you all stay. Would you choose to remain in Narnia."_

_"Without Susan and Peter," Edmund mused. He looked up at me. "Could you do it? Live and grow here for years, without them? Presumably we'll go back and it will be like before, as though no time had passed. They won't have missed us. But could we live so many years without them?"_

_I pressed my lips together. "What's the other choice? Going home now and never, ever seeing Caspian again? Never seeing Narnia?"_

_Edmund shrugged and fingered his sword hilt thoughtfully. I knew he was thinking of Peter, of what it meant to be a King without him, of all the troubles he had had with Caspian and how Caspian would not have dared if Peter faced off with him on Deathwater. Already I missed Susan's gentle voice and her kind smile, and the way she would cuddle and pet me no matter how old I was because I was her baby sister. Could I face a time of trouble without her to comfort me? But could I go back, back to a world where we were separated still and I would ache from the loss of Caspian and worry over him?_

_In the end I had to realize that it wasn't wholly for me that I wanted to stay. Of course there was a part of me that wanted to, it was certainly not all hardship, but thinking of Caspian without anyone to share his thoughts with, remembering the ache I saw in him resolved me. I stepped forward and touched Edmund's arm. "We have to go back. For Caspian. It won't be easy, but we'll see them again. One day. If we turn away now we'll never see Caspian again."_

_He turned to look at me slowly and nodded, his eyes grave but a small smile on his lips. "Wise words, sister. It's obvious where your son got it from." My throat constricted and my eyes grew bright at this sudden mention, but I nodded. Edmund turned to Aslan. "I would stay, sir."_

_We all turned to Eustace, who looked startled. He stiffened and blinked, shifting his gaze between us. "Me? Well, I don't see that I have much choice. When I wanted to visit the British Consulate—"_

_There was a quiet growl from Aslan, but he almost sounded amused._

_"I'll stay, of course," Eustace added hurriedly, his eyes widening. Edmund and I chuckled._

_And so we turned away from the end of the world. Before we stepped into the water Aslan said to me, "Remember, dearest, this cannot last forever."_

_I nodded. "Nothing does."_

_"One day, when you come to my country, you will discover that joy lasts forever."_

_I beamed with this happy thought, and I followed Edmund through the lilies and the water. We saw Reepicheep's sword glinting among all the white lilies. Then Edmund pushed the boat forward and we jumped in and took the oars, gliding easily through the smooth water of the Silver Sea. We rowed through the rest of the day, into the night. The sun came up the next morning, huge and blazing. For a moment at the edge of the world, the Silver Sea was shot through with gold._

_We fed on light and kept rowing. As before, we didn't speak. It might have been alright to sing, but I didn't feel any song I knew could match the wild beauty of the birds'. Finally at night when we almost couldn't see the lilies in the blackness and Edmund snored lightly as slept, Eustace spoke, his voice glum. "You know, in __our world there are places where the sun never sets. In summer. Lapland and Alaska and such."_

_Those names sounded completely foreign to me in that moment, as though they were stranger places than a sea with floating lilies. They belonged to Spare Oom and War Drobe. I sat in silence for a moment, listening to the oars splash in the water before I answered. "I think I like it better when day and night are separate," I answered thoughtfully. "The sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening."_

_Eustace took a drink of the light water. I could only just see the outline of him in the starlight, but I could hear the splash of the water as he drank it. When he was done, he gave a gasp of refreshment and awe which sounded harsh in the stillness. "I wouldn't mind a little extra light right now."_

_I shrugged as I pulled the oars, tipping my face up to the stars._

_"What if we don't reach them?" he pressed. "They've had a start and lots more men to row. If the __Dawn Treader reaches open sea before us, we're doomed."_

_I laughed. The sound of it carried across the water._

_"It's not funny, Lucy!"_

_"Eustace. Do you really mean to say you're doubting Aslan? If he sent us back, we shall get back."_

_"But it doesn't make sense. Logic says—"_

_"Logic doesn't matter. Haven't you learned Aslan defies logic?" I gave him a smile which he couldn't see in the darkness. "Look. The dawn is coming." I nodded to the faint blue tinge at the horizon._

_Aslan's meal on the grass and the waters of the last sea made us stronger. We rowed through the whole of the next day. The scent of the lilies only made me want to row further and faster. I could see the same flush of strength and adventure on Edmund's cheeks, and even Eustace's. I took my turn at resting, but I did not sleep._

_On the night of the third day I was lounging over the side of the boat, letting my fingertips brush the lilies as we passed. There was a moon that night, and the flowers looked like a carpet of moonbeams. I also noticed that we were gliding impressively fast._

_Then I noticed a change in the light of the lilies. They weren't just glowing with their own whiteness, there was a touch of golden light on them, coming from the west. A warm, human light. I looked up, and there before us stood the __Dawn Treader, the cheerful, homey lanterns shining at the prow and stern and the fighting top and glowing in the cabin windows._

_I gave a wordless shout of joy. Eustace and Edmund turned, and when they saw the ship they echoed it. The oars were all drawn in, the sailors resting for the night, and there was no other noise in the calm of the night. Our shouts carried across the water, and there was an answering call from the ship, wary and alarmed. Of course they couldn't see us as anything more than black shapes against the lilies. There were some moments of unintelligible shouting before Edmund stood up in the boat and cupped his hands around his mouth, calling "It's us—King Edmund and Queen Lucy and Eustace. We've come back from the end of the world."_

_Some crew members whistled in amazement, others cried caution, that it might be a trick. We were close enough then that I could see Drinian push his way to the rails. "Fools! You'll see well enough when they come into the lamplight. Stop worrying like old women and stand by to heave the boat up. And someone wake the King."_

_As we drifted into the meager light of the ship's lamps, there were many cries of astonishment. And then the men moved aside and Caspian was at the rail in his loose nightshirt, his mouth gaping open._

_It was our farewell in reverse. I sat beaming while they heaved the boat up. He stared right at me. Then his hand closed around mine and I stumbled out of the boat and into his arms. He was so warm, and he smelled of sleep and his clean Caspian smell. I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face against him. I felt him finger my hair in numb wonder._

_"You're back. How—?"_

_I lifted my head and touched his cheek. "It seems we are meant to be together a little while longer."_

_His only answer was a slowly growing, radiant smile._

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A/N: I'm not usually one to beg for reviews--they're only so much gravy, because it's enough to know you've read and enjoyed. However, with this one I'm dying to know--is it good? How does it compare to the original? I know not a lot has happened yet, so if you want to wait until there's more to judge that's fine. I'm just dying for some feedback!

Oh, and if you don't know I'm not a plagiarist, and the first line of the chapter is in fact from the last chapter of "The Voyage of the Dawn Treader."


	3. How Eustace Learned of Narnian Courtship

_A/N: So believe it or not this file has been sitting on my computer waiting for some edits. Now that they're finally done (though I didn't make all the changes my beta suggested), I'll post. And lest you think this is going the way of the original, I'll let you know that the next 3 chapters are already written...they just need to be typed. Enjoy this one, but let me know either way--love or hate._

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_How Eustace Learned of Narnian Courtship_

_(Eustace)_

21 March

Today we opened Lucy's birthday gift. It was rather fun to watch her open nearly priceless jewels and pull a face because she didn't like them. Lucy's a strange fish—even if she didn't like them surely she could see the use of having something valuable? Edmund said no, that she never concerns herself with wealth, and even when she was queen she never knew what was in the treasury. I wonder if that's what it really means to be rich (money rich, of course, I know the difference between that and spiritually rich), to have so much money that gold and jewels don't really mean anything. She got a great lot of jewels she didn't care for. With one of them was a note, more than the usual tag of who it was from. Lucy read and groaned, passing it on to E. who read it and snorted. "So it begins," he said and crumpled the note and tossed it away. I was a bit annoyed—it's not v. polite to comment on something and not let other people in on the secret. But I couldn't very well demand to see the note, could I? Caspian looked confused too, and I saw him clench his hand in a fist.

L. liked her other presents, though. Drinian and Rhince gave her the compass they used on the _Dawn Treader_, and even though it was beat up and water stained, she loved it. E. gave her a new scabbard for her dagger and the promise to teach her to swordfight "Now that Peter and Susan can't have my head once they know about it." L. was v. excited about this and hugged E. He pretended to hate it and cried "Ugh! Get off!" but he was laughing so I think he was quite pleased. E. does not make a lot of sense all the time, even though I'm forced to admit he's quite intelligent. Perhaps even cleverer than me, though I get better marks in school. Got. When I went to school and there were marks. Now we go to lessons just for the sake of learning things.

Lucy quite liked my present as well, a carved ivory quiver for her arrows. I didn't tell her but am forced to admit here that C. helped me choose it. Am trying to be more honest. I did talk with the faun who carved it about the design though, and L. particularly commented on that. C. got her a dryad-woven cloak which can make you almost invisible in the woods. She was v. pleased and put her arm round his neck and kissed his cheek. She's always doing that, hugging and kiss people, even E. and me. Nobody seems to think it strange, even though in England it would be very bizarre. C. went all red and started to stammer, which is v. odd for him in general, and especially when it's Lucy. Why should he care if she kissed him? They do things like that a lot, hold hands and such, and think nothing of it.

Am just now realizing though—Lucy's old enough to be thinking of love and all that rot, at least by Narnian standards. Does C. still remember that conversation in Coriakin's house? Is he still thinking of marrying Lucy, and is he thinking of doing it now?

22 March

L. asked me if I want to join her in sword fighting lessons. I think I will. Sword fighting seems to be the sort of thing that comes in handy here. Besides, am sick of people telling that stupid sea serpent story and making fun of my swordsmanship. Especially C. He keeps ribbing me about breaking his second best sword. If he keeps on at me I shall start teasing him about L.

23 March

Hate ruddy sword fighting. I carry around a sword of course, mostly for show, so I know how heavy they are. But whenever I watch E. and C. with their swords they never seem like it's hard to swing or move their feet. It's a lie. I could barely swing my sword at all and I fell half a dozen times. I'm sure I shall have bruises.

If only Lucy wasn't so good by comparison! When they gave her the sword I thought for sure she would fare worse than I. After all, in three years she's hardly grown. She's so tiny it looks as if she could be broken very easily. Aslan's mane, though—as soon as she picked up the sword she started slashing away. She wasn't as good as E. or C., but she was good enough. Didn't fall or get whacked with the flat of Caspian's sword. She even disarmed C. the first time because he was so surprised. He couldn't take his eyes off her the whole time. Am really going to start teasing him if he doesn't stop teasing me. Even E. has begun to notice. I caught him looking at C. while he was admiring L.

24 March

L. convinced me to come to practice again. She said what I didn't realize is that she's had twenty years of secret practice. Twenty years! I always think of her as a kid like me. But then she's lived all these extra years. It's hard to follow.

I promised L. I would go only if C. stopped teasing me. She swore he wouldn't, and when he tried she glared at him v. ferociously. He was quite cowed. I guess she does have some practice being a queen.

1 April

Sword practice all week. Am v. sore, but am getting much better. C. took three whole minutes to disarm me. L. still better. She has already disarmed C. four times total. I might be more upset if she weren't so funny about it. She imitates Peter when he was High King (even I can tell) and makes him beg for mercy. And he does! V. funny to see kingly Caspian behaving so.

No one has disarmed E. yet. He was v. smug about that fact until L. reminded him that he used to get beaten by Peter nearly every time. E. grew frustrated, then thoughtful.

3 April

More practice. Mastered a new move and E. was impressed.

Later I caught him and L. talking in whispers about Peter and Susan. They do this quite a bit, as they used to talk about Narnia. Don't know why they need to be secret—it's not as if I would make fun of them. Besides, around here everyone always mentions Peter with reverence. It's a bit odd to think of Peter like that. He's just an ordinary kid to me—perhaps a bit bossier than average. In the old days I would have said the Narnians have their heads turned, but now I wonder what I'm missing. Of course L. & E. won't let me find out, will they?

At least I'm not the only one they keep out. C. is right there with me. He gets just as annoyed when they go off by themselves to talk about the Golden Age. He says he wants his reign to be like Peter's as much as possible, but how is he to do that if they won't let him learn?

11 April

V. bizarre day. It started out normally enough with breakfast and meetings and sword practice and became something which I've never seen the like. Have been here three years and realize every day that I do not understand Narnia at all.

Today we watched E. and C. match each other. Now that I know a bit about sword fighting, I know why E. beats C. nearly every time. E. is trickier. C. is v. good, but he has a way of telegraphing his moves, I think, and E. picked up on it. Doesn't make him easy to beat though. L. made them go round after round, swearing she was learning, but I suspect she was simply egging them on.

Finally they stopped and demanded a rest. E. said if she wanted to learn so much she could practice with me and they would coach. E. called instructions to me while C. guided L. With E.'s instructions, I did a good job of staying in it. L. hadn't even come close to beating me when the herald appeared in the doorway.

C. saw him first and got up. The herald bowed and said there were visitors for Queen Lucy. Everyone stopped at this, and we noticed that behind the herald was one of the lords who had been at her birthday party. He was very dressed up, as if he were going to another party. Telmarine fancy clothes look so uncomfortable.

C. blinked and gestured for him to enter, but he didn't look v. happy about it. The Lord was carrying a bouquet of very smelly flowers, and he walked up to Edmund. For a second I thought he would give the flowers to E. Instead, he asked "My dread lord king, who has twice conquered Narnia, I am Lord Andarillo. My family is a very ancient Narnian family, and we have long held our lands at Beaversdam, until usur—" he paused in his speech and saw that Caspian was on the verge of looking thunderous and L. and E. both had one eyebrow cocked. He cleared his throat and wisely changed his tack. "Until his Majesty in his wisdom declared the Partition. I have much to recommend me, and I therefore humbly ask your permission to court your fair sister, the Lady of Narnia, Queen Lucy."

L. was next to me and I could feel her stiffen with surprise. C. was across from me, and I Could see the fury building up in his face. Am not usually good at reading people, but Caspian telegraphs absolutely everything. You would think a king would be a bit more subtle. Meanwhile, the corners of E's mouth were twitching as if he was trying not to laugh. "My fair sister has a mind of her own. Why don't you recommend yourself to her?" He gestured to Lucy.

The fellow turned and nearly jumped out of his skin to see the Fair Lady of Narnia dripping with sweat and dressed in her brother's breeches. She smiled at him the way she smiles at everyone. "Hello, Lord Andarillo. We danced together at the feast, didn't we?"

"Er—yes. Yes, I had the honor that night," he stammered, still eyeing L.

She tilted her head. "I heard you have much to recommend you in the way of lineage." I could have sworn E. snorted with laughter, but then he coughed so could not be sure. L. continued. "Are you a swordsman?"

He bowed. "Since I was six."

"Excellent! I'm always looking for sparring partners," L. replied, sounding genuinely pleased.

The fellow's face went absolutely green. "Fight you? I could never fight a lady."

L. tossed her hair. "You must either refuse a lady or fight a lady." His horror at this dilemma made me want to laugh. In my opinion she relented all too soon. "Never mind. Do you ride, sir?"

He nodded and Lucy proposed a ride. He coughed delicately. "Wouldn't your Majesty prefer to freshen up before we set off?"

"Oh, no. I'll only get all sweaty again riding."

"The Queen is a lady adventurous," C. put in. "You will not find yourself on a decorous ride through the gardens with her, but rather a wild gallop through the forest."

At the mention of the forest, the young Telmarine Lord blanched. They're supposed to be afraid of the forest and the sea or something, though C. has tried to discourage that. I've been on the sea though, and I say their fear not entirely without reason.

L. smiled and wrinkled her nose at C. "I don't always ride through the woods. Come. We'll all go for a ride on the beach."

Andarillo's horse was tired, so C. offered one from the stables. He tried to offer one of the wildest ones but E. put a stop to that. L. patted C.'s arm and said "Be nice. I have my own ways" in a low voice so that only he could hear. But I heard anyway. I did wonder what she meant. Was a bit annoyed that this Andarillo had cut our lesson short and was now running our entire day. I began to fear I was caught up in a romantic intrigue or similar.

That's when I began to see what's going on. C. is upset this Andarillo is here for L. (is he still pining for her??) and perhaps L. doesn't want him here either.

We went down to the beach and L. suggested a race. I wasn't at all in the mood, but C. glared at me so hard I had to agree. Andarillo continued to look astonished. We started off, and I could see him pulling back on the reins. I snorted, knowing that L. hates it when you let her win. C. of course galloped as hard as he could. Soon it was obvious that only C and L were in the contest, and the rest of us hung back to watch C. pull ahead and win by a length.

Andarillo gasped when he saw this. "He has no sense of chivalry," he murmured.

"He has," I objected. "He's giving her what she wants. She wants a fair contest."

Andarillo looked abashed and E. snorted. L and C started to ride back to us. They were laughing, and L. looked particularly happy despite just having lost. Dunno how she does that—losing always makes me sour.

Next L wanted a shooting contest. Am worse at archery than I am at swordplay so I sat on the sidelines with E. while the other three faced off. C looked thunderous as he loaded his bow.

"What's the matter with him?" I asked.

"Isn't it obvious? He's jealous," E. answered.

"Because he wants Lucy for himself? Still?"

He gave me a grim smile. "Now you're catching on."

I shook my head as I watched then. C. was angry so he shot poorly. Andarillo was trying now so he fared somewhat better, but L still beat him. He seemed v. surprised at this, but he told her graciously "My lady is an excellent archer."

"Not as good as my sister," she said. Then she proceeded to explain how Susan was the greatest archer in Narnia. He looked surprised, but he wasn't half so surprised as me. Susan, an archer? Stuffy, girly, motherly Susan? I still don't understand about what Narnia does to people.

13 April

Andarillo is gone. He left this morning stammering some stupid excuse, but it's pretty obvious he's gone off L. C has been smug all day, even after L. chided him for not being nice. Am glad that business is over as we can get back to training now.

14 April

More mysteries. This is v. aggravating. E & L will say I was eavesdropping, but I wasn't. Who has a private conversation with a door wide open? This is what I heard:

L: Well, that was easily managed.

E: He's only the first. You know there will be more.

L: Oh, don't, Ed. The very idea…

E: What on earth did you expect? You seem even more marriageable this time around.

L: (silence. Then) I hate it when you talk about me like I'm property.

E: You know I don't feel that way. It's how they think.  
L: (explodes) I hate the whole business. I can't bear to go through it again. And how could I do that to Corin?

Now you see, I quite forgot I had been listening for so long. It's just that Lucy has mentioned Corin's name several times over the three years we've been here and she's never explained anything about him except that he lived during her first time in Narnia. Any reasonable person would have strolled in and asked quite politely for a resolution to the mystery, which is just what I did.

Of course they didn't understand and got upset with me. I told them that I wouldn't have to listen if they would just tell me things. Then L got up and went to the window and said "Not everything concerns you, Eustace." Of all the cheek!

Then E ushered me out of the room, saying he and L wanted to be alone. Then he snapped the door shut in my face!

I went to find C. After all, he's King. According to Narnian law, he should be able to tell them what to do. I found him in the library, draped over a chair and flipping the pages of a book roughly so they made a crisp sound.

"I can't do anything about them," he informed me. "I swore allegiance to them; I can't command them. Though sometimes I wish I could.

What good is being king, then?


	4. The Meditations of Eustace

The Meditations of Eustace

(_Eustace_)

_Sometimes I think about myself. I suppose that's natural. I wonder what the others think in the early morning, or sunset, or the watches of the night, or whenever it is that they're alone with their thoughts. What, does Caspian wonder that he's too noble and kingly? Does Edmund wonder that he's too clever? I can't imagine Lucy worrying about anything at all._

_ Me, I stand in front of the mirror and examine myself from all angles. I'm trimmer than I was in England. Stronger, too. When I flex my arm I can see a bit of muscle. But I haven't started to grow a beard yet. It doesn't matter that Ed and Caspian stay clean-shaven. The point is that they have to shave at all. Also, I'm a lot shorter and I don't have muscles like them. And to tell you the truth, I think I look pretty strange in Narnian clothes._

_ The trouble is I'm not too sure I belong here. I know Lucy would tell me not to doubt, btu that's not really something I can help. I'm not a knight or a king. I don't even know anything about swords or archery or anything that's really considered useful or important. After three years I'm still pretty rubbish at riding._

_ I haven't read the right books. I can tell you all about the different species of beetles or how they educate people in Sweden, but no one here has ever heard of Sweden, and if you want to know about beetles you could probably find one to talk to. What's more, I don't know any of the right things, like how to talk to a king or how to become a knight, or any of those entertaining folk tales people seem to know and learn from._

_ I don't even have any kind of useful purpose. Lucy and Ed are the most famous king and queen the country has ever seen, apart from Susan and Peter. When they ruled it was called the Golden Age. I have the distinction of being the only human ever to be turned into a dragon. And even that may not be true, because Lord Octesian may well have been that old dragon._

_ It's not that I feel sorry for myself. I don't; not really. It's just that I'm not sure what my purpose here is. When we were at the end of the world, why didn't Aslan open the door and send me back? I'd been to this world, changed on the journey. I thought it was time to go home. Apparently not. But if this world has been useful to me, then I suppose I'm here to be useful in return. Only—and here we get back to the central point, you see—I really don't see how that's going to happen. Unless they need to know about PE in New Zealand._


	5. Caspian and the Suitors

_Caspian and the Suitors_

_(Caspian)_

It was a thick, rainy spring day, warm but very humid, like walking in a cloud. I was feeling very tetchy. Everything was annoying me—my advisors, the hundreds of documents I had to pore over, the fact that every single person I met wanted or needed something. I understand full well the role of a king, but it can be quite wearying at times.

I was taking refuge in the Chamber of Instruments, spinning all the moveable parts of the tools. I realized I didn't know the names for half the things in there; a lot of them were gifts from important people. I grew annoyed with myself and resolved to have Doctor Cornelius rectify my ignorance. I started to pace; my boots made a satisfying heavy sound.

Normally when I was in such a mood I would go for a walk with Lucy. She would help me see the beauty in a day even such as this and soothe my ruffled feathers. But of course she couldn't walk with me because she was entertaining a suitor.

If I was honest with myself, the suitors were the main reason for my bad mood. The first one was amusing—he was so surprised when she showed herself! But after that there's been at least one a week after, sometimes two. It's as tough men have heard she will accept no one and they have been determined to be the one she accepts. Fools. Now every spare hour of Lucy's is taken up with entertaining them. There are no more walks in the rain or under the stars or rides in the woods or nights remembering the _Dawn Treader_. Simpering, fatuous, fools, ruining everything.

She comes to me when she can't sleep. She'll perch on my bed and draw her knees up to her chest and stare at me, waiting for me to wake up. I always do. I've been a light sleeper since drinking the water at the end of the world. Once I am awake we go downstairs and raid the kitchens. She likes something sweet; I rather enjoy a slice of cold venison in the middle of the night. We open a bottle of Archen wine—Lucy drinks this undiluted—and we talk. We talk about everything. I don't think there's anyone in the world who knows me better than Lucy, and that's the only way I would have it.

Now there is none of that. Instead it is like Telemachus and Penelope and the suitors. I know about that because after Edmund threatened to tie me to the mast 'like Ulysses' I made him tell me the story on the way home. He told me that while Ulysses was away on his ship, suitors were coming for Penelope. She didn't want them, but she had to host them. I felt very much the same. I couldn't throw these boys, sons of our most powerful lords, out on their ear, but by Aslan I wanted to.

As I walked that morning, I turned all these thing over in my head and the moist air became even more oppressive. During my walk at the end of the garden, I saw Lucy come out with her latest suitor, Lord Sandrón. Though I knew I shouldn't, I hid myself in order to watch. I reasoned that she had no desire to make it a private conversation and she would tell me all about it later anyway. Lucy and I had no secrets. In the back of my mind a voice told me this wasn't really a justification, but I didn't listen to that voice.

"My lady will catch a chill in this weather," Lord Sandron was protesting.

Lucy laughed. "This is nothing but a spring mist! A fine day for a stroll. I like being in the garden on days like this. Everything is so wet and alive."

The leaves before my nose gave off such a smell of warm earth and greenness that I could see exactly what she meant. Lord Sandron, however, gave her a quizzical look.

Lucy tilted her head. "Don't you know what I mean? Early in spring, when everything is pulsing with life, waiting to bloom."

"I confess, my lady, I know not what you mean," Sandron said, he looked a bit wary even.

Lucy's smile tightened, and I could see the disappointment flash through her eyes.

He patted her hand and I gritted my teeth against the condescending look on his face. "My lady shall travel south with me to my estates and see all the blooms that grow there in high summer. It will be quite the adventrure."

"Deathwater was covered in the most remarkable blue gray heather," Lucy commented, her eyes unfocused. "But the strangest plants were on Coriakin's island, simply because they were so English."

Sandron frowned. "What is English?"

She threw him a look over her shoulder that was almost sympathetic and drifted ahead a few paces. He followed in her wake, looking somehow entranced and perplexed at the same time. I hated him in that moment because I understood him. I wished I was walking by Lucy's side, listening to her talk about the strange round world she came from.

Lucy walked on a bit without answering his question. At last she turned back and replied with one of her own. "Where is your family from, Lord Sandron?"

He bowed courteously. "We are from the south."

She smiled. It was genuine, but there was a sadness behind her eyes. "I love the south of Narnia. I know it well. Is your land near the Archen Pass?"

"Nay. We are from the coast—a small town called Grena."

She whirled around to face him. "Grena!" she cried, grabbing his forearm. "But that's not Narnian. How—" She stopped, growing thoughtful. "I suppose Lucien would have inherited it when Corin—" She broke off once more and turned away, fingering the leaves of a climbing plant. After a moment, she spoke. "Tell me, is the castle still there? And the gardens, with all the Valiant roses?" I couldn't read her expression completely, but I wished even more fervently I was by her side. She looked as though she needed some comfort, and I would have walked by her side gladly.

It took Lord Sandron a moment to respond, so surprised was he by her quick changes in mood. "Castle? There is no castle. Only a ruin, overrun by very small roses climbing everywhere."

She did not look at him. From where I watched, I could see that her lower lip trembled and she closed her eyes. "Of course," she whispered, and her voice was heavy with sadness.

I couldn't bear it. Though I was as perplexed as Lord Sandron, I couldn't stand by and do nothing while she was so sad. I took advantage of their distraction to creep to the garden entrance. Once there, I hailed them as if I had just entered.

Lord Sandron turned at once and bowed deeply. I nodded, then looked past him to Lucy.

"Caspian," she said warmly, though the sadness still lingered in her expression.

I came forward and whispered to her "Are you alright? You look sad."

She gave a very tiny sniff as if to steady herself, then she lifted her chin and smiled. "I'm better now." She slipped her hand into mine and gave it a squeeze.

Sandron noticed this, and he gave me a challenging raise of the brow. I met his look. No one was going to challenge my friendship with Lucy. Certainly not someone who wanted her but didn't even know her. Sandron had no choice but to back down.

Over the course of his visit, we had several similar exchanges. I managed to interrupt what he no doubt thought of as their trysts several times. He was always mystified by Lucy; she and I always shared a moment of understanding. He would try to challenge my presence; I would force him to look back down. After several days he grew tired of this and went on his way.

As he rode away, I found Lucy standing on the South balcony watching his departure. I leaned against the door frame watching her. "Sad he's gone?" I asked wryly.

She glanced at me over her shoulder. "Don't be impertinent."

"I'm merely making an observation," I replied.

She answered with an arch of her eyebrow.

I let out a breath and my shoulders relaxed as I came forward to stand next to her. We both leaned on the railing and our arms touched. I liked that. "I'm glad he's gone," I said.

"I know." She turned her face to look up at me. "You were not very kind to him."

I turned to her fully to protest but then I saw the little smile on her lips. Her eyes sparkled, and I longed to graze her cheek with my knuckles, turn her face up to kiss. I had been patient for three years, but sometimes I could scarcely contain what I felt. It had been especially difficult since the new year, when all at once she blossomed from a girl into a woman. Her girlhood prettiness changed into the beauty of a young woman, and I couldn't help desiring her sometimes. I grit my teeth against the injustice that she had to entertain these suitors who saw her as no more than a bauble when I, who loved her, had to remain silent because of an old promise.

"Neither should you be!" I burst out. "He's not the one for you. You know it just as well as I. That's why you kept talking about exploration and adventure when you saw he hated the thought of a lady being free to face any danger."

She pursed her mouth to challenge me, but then the expression fell from her face and she bowed her head.

"Lucy," I breathed as I saw the sadness come over her so quickly. I reached out and touched her arm.

She turned away to look at the green downs which stretched southward. "Who is the one for me, then?"

I held my breath and stepped closer to her. When she felt my movement, she raised her eyes to mine. How I longed to kiss her and claim myself! She wouldn't love me out of pity. But I promised Edmund, and until he released me of the promise I was bound to it. Instead I said gently, "Someone who understands you. There's not a lady like you in all the world, Lucy. You're not just a lady, you're a queen, an adventurer, a warrior, a philosopher. You're clever and kind. A lot of people underestimate you."

"Apparently you don't," she said with a small smile. "Oh, Caspian." She sighed and closed the distance between us and wrapped her arms around my waist. I looked down at her golden head nestled against me and stroked her hair. I folded her closer and rested my chin on top of her head. Though I could not deny the thrill of having her so close, my only motive was to give her comfort. She was troubled, saddened by these suitors and though I knew not why, I was determined to help her as best I could.

After awhile where we stood silent together, she pulled away just enough to look up at me. "You understand me," she observed, looking at me keenly. "Perhaps better than anyone."

There was something in her face which reminded me of when she kissed me on the _Dawn Treader_. My heart leapt with hope. "I would hope so. I feel we understand each other."

She smiled up at me. "I think so."

The ache to kiss her swelled, but I fought against it still. I would have to wait until she kissed me. That seemed a possibility—she did not break the embrace, and her eyes were very bright and warm, and her lips a soft, inviting pout.

Before I could speak again, another voice said, "There you are, Lu. I was looking for you."

Edmund was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Though he addressed Lucy, he looked at me. I met his gaze, knowing I had done nothing wrong. He arched an eyebrow.

Lucy seemed to notice none of this. She broke our embrace gently, without looking abashed or embarrassed. "What did you need, Ed?"

He jerked his head. "Walk with me."

She assented and took his arm. He steered her away. I thought she left blithely enough, and I wondered why she did not feel the same pang of disappointment. Had I imagined everything? When she reached the door though, she gave me a parting glance over her shoulder and I saw that the understanding between us had not faded. But then she was gone, following her brother.

Anger towards Edmund flared up in my chest, and I felt it burn uncomfortably. I couldn't do anything about it, could I? I had promised him, but it seemed now he was thwarting me on purpose. I was so close to something with Lucy moments before, and Edmund clearly knew that, judging by his expression. I had been patient for years. I had waited, and watched her grow from girl to young woman, her beauty blossoming by the minute. It had been easy enough to enjoy her chaste company when we first returned from our adventure. Desire played no part of my love then, and it was good enough just to pass an hour in her company. But lately she had changed, and the girl was fast becoming a very beautiful woman. Suddenly her mouth became very kissable, and I thought my hand would fit exactly on the curve of her waist. Now, although I could never tire of her company, I found myself longing for more than conversation. Still I waited patiently. I did not kiss her as I longed to, though I could not help wrapping my arms around her sometimes and inhaling her silver lily smell.

Hope is a meager diet, but I fed on it and made due. Every day I felt a little closer, my portion of hope a little larger. And now Edmund was thwarting me on purpose! Why? All that time ago in Coriakin's house he said he would be proud to call me brother. He gave us his blessing. Now he pulled her away from me every time she inched closer, when I had held to honor. It seemed that he was being dishonorable, and breaking his promise.

I needed to work off some of the anger or I would say or do something that I'd regret. I hastened to the practice yard, thinking it would do me some good to slice and hack with my sword.

I found Eustace there, working hard with a dummy. His face was red from exertion and his hair dripping with sweat as he made still inexpert thrusts and jabs. Matching him would not really be a challenge, but a live partner was much better than the air, or a dummy.

"Ah, Eustace," I hailed him as I picked up my sword. "Match me instead?"

Eustace turned to face me, gulping for breath. He mopped his brow with his sleeve as he nodded. He squared his feet in the read stance and licked his lips as he held his sword aloft.

The clang of swords was intensely satisfying. I swung my sword again, powerfully but slowly, giving Eustace enough time to block. He parried, but could feel his arms tremble as he met the blow.

I took a deep breath and we went again. The slow pace was not venting my anger but increasing it. I had time to think, and Edmund's smirk appeared in my mind's eye, mocking me as he drew away the thing I thirsted for the most. Then I forgot where I was or who I was facing. I came at Edmund with all my strength. If I had to cow him with brute strength and cruel Telmarine skill, I would.

I came on with a fury of blows in quick succession. My opponent stumbled back and fell, tripping over his own feet. I sliced the air above his head, grunting with satisfaction.

"Oi!" Eustace's angry shout called me back to myself. I looked down and saw him sitting on the ground with his legs splayed. "What are you trying to kill me for?"

Instantly, remorse filled me. What had I done? The rule of honorable swordplay was to not match an opponent weaker than oneself. If I was at practice with Eustace it was for his sake and not my own. And of course, the rule of friendship was to avoid harming one's friends. I extended a hand to help him up, saying with contrition. "Your pardon, Eustace. I never meant to hurt you."

He accepted my help but was not quite done being upset. "That's dangerous! You know I can't fight well yet. You could have chopped my head off."

"I know—I'm sorry." I held out my hand for him to shake pax.

He shook, but muttered grudgingly, "What are you so angry about, anyway?"

"Nothing," I answered.

He rolled his eyes. "The least you could do after trying to decapitate me is tell me why."

I sighed and swung my sword idly at the ground, a sulky, heavy movement. Eustace backed up a couple of paces. "It's these suitors coming for Lucy. None of them are right for her."

"And I suppose you think you are," he observed wryly. When I whipped my head up to look at him, he only shrugged. "It's true, isn't it? You've still got that thing for Lucy."

I opened my mouth to retort angrily, but what came out was actually much softer and very sincere. "I love her." The truth was that I needed to vent my feelings somehow, even if it was only talking.

"Still? From the _Dawn Treader_?"

"Yes."

Eustace sighed and shook his head as he slid his sword into place on the rack. "I don't get it. How can you be in love with her? She was just a kid. She's still a kid."

"That doesn't matter. We understand each other," I said solemnly.

"Huh," Eustace grunted. "Perhaps that's true. But still, you should be friends because of that. And you already are."

"Do I have to justify myself to you?" I cried, losing my temper. "She speaks my thoughts aloud. She is noble and valiant and kind. She is made more beautiful by her great compassion. Lucy is my other half. I have no better reasons to love her than that. Does that satisfy you?"

Eustace rubbed his chin. "I suppose so. Well, if that's how you feel, why don't you throw your hat in the ring as a suitor? I daresay you'd have a better shot than these fools."

"I can't! Don't you remember when I asked Edmund for her hand at Coriakin's house? He forbade me from saying anything."

"You still remember that condition? It was more than three years ago!"

Eustace nodded, accepting this. He didn't quite understand this code of honor; I could see that much in his expression. "If that's the case then perhaps you'd better talk to Edmund." I set my jaw. "You're right." I vowed then that I would speak my case to Edmund. I would court Lucy just as the other nobles did. How could I be expected to wait around while all these other men begged for her hand? I turned on my heel to go in search of him.

Eustace came trotting after me and snatched my arm to pull me back. "Not now! Are you mad? You'll never make any headway now—you're all worked up, and you know Edmund likes logic."

I paused and turned to him. Eustace raised his brows, emphasizing his point. I relented, sighing. "Very well, then. Come and have a drink with me, won't you? I need to something to distract me."

"If I must," Eustace grumbled with a smile.

I watched Lucy dance that night in the hall. There wasn't a reason, really. No party or festival, no occasion. She danced simply for the pleasure of dancing, because the night was fresh and full of springtime promise, because she coaxed the musician into a song. She looked so blithe and so happy as she took a turn with every willing partner, with Eustace and Trufflehunter and Trumpkin and Edmund. I let her drag me into the dance as well, and we moved with such perfect time. This was a night without suitors, and Lucy for once was carefree, as she was upon the _Dawn Treader_.

When we sat together, laughing, I nearly opened my mouth, determined to speak, but in the end I could not break my word. I knew if I was going to win Lucy's heart at all I would have to do so honestly. When she came back from the very end of the world I thought my heart had run over with joy, and that it was enough. I had to let it be enough once again—for a time.

Late at night I stole down to the _Dawn Treader._ The little ship was rocking quietly, and I boarded her silently. I went to the pope deck and laid down to look at the stars, as I had so many nights with Lucy in the Eastern seas. I half hoped she would join me; she always found me wherever I was.

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_A/N: Two for one, because the last chapter was so short and that would be a mean update after so long. Hope it was at least partially worth the wait!_


	6. The Length of a Sojourn

_The Length of a Sojourn_

_(Caspian)_

_ The _Dawn Treader_ stands in the flagship's place in the harbor, banners flying, always brightly gilded. Narnia has built much bigger ships since her—we are very near to a proper navy now—but no matter how big or powerful the other ships are, the _Dawn Treader_ will always be first in the fleet, most honored. She was the first built in the fleet, and she was the first, and may be the only ship to sail to the end of the world._

_ On board, I was more myself than I've ever been anywhere else. I was King and warrior still, but I was also familiar enough with the crew that I could be a man. Beyond a man, I was an adventurer, an explorer. The freedom was incomparable, better even than those first days with Trumpkin and Trufflehunter when I was fleeing Miraz. To stand at the bow of the ship and know that I was perhaps the first man to see that line of the horizon made me feel larger than myself, moving on to a higher purpose, like Reepicheep._

_ More than freedom and adventure, or perhaps tied up with these ideas, the _Dawn Treader_ makes me think of Lucy. She was everywhere on the ship; her laughter rang out from the poop deck, her quick footfalls by the prow. She was intricately tied to every splinter in the mast and thread in the sail—she was the _Dawn Treader_._

_ The first time I thought I lost her, she returned. _

_ I remember well the sadness of that parting. I thought my heart would break, watching the little boat row away to the horizon, the last adventure of the _Dawn Treader_. I could hear her clear voice calling farewell and see her waving across all the whiteness. I trained my eyes on the bright gold of her hair until Drinian gave the command and I felt the ship wheel about, drawing me further away. _

_ In the first wake of that loss, I didn't know what to do with myself. The weight of it was at times so heavy it chafed, and I grew irritated. At other moments I was lost in thoughts of what could have been. The promise of her kiss still lingered on my lips, and I would touch my fingers to them to try and distill it._

_ I had not been alone since we rescued them before the Lone Islands. I was sleeping in the same cabin as Eustace and Edmund and passing most of my waking hours with Lucy. Now the hours stretched out before me and I had no one to fill them with. I would go to the stern ad stare at all the whiteness, searching vainly for the boat on the horizon, a fleck of gold amid all the silver-white. The wild, lonely smell of the lilies, once so wild and exciting, was now the smell of melancholy, sharp and painful—and yet, something I did not want to let go. I drowned in memories of them all._

_ Then came the day when we saw the blue of open water on the horizon. We sailed closer and closer to it, and I alternated between looking back and going forward to judge how close we were to the real beginning of the voyage home. I dreaded that moment. Once we left behind the quiet of the Silver Sea our parting would be irrevocable. I didn't have the strength to face that. Several hundred yards before the edge of the lilies, I ordered Drinian to drop anchor. He looked at me quizzically, but obeyed all the same, because he had to._

_ I held a tribute to Reepicheep. The crew entered into this willingly, and several even said kind words, told funny stories. Drinian went on longer than the rest, beginning with "That blasted Mouse," and launching into a speech that was both fond and funny. We sat down to dinner on the deck and poured out libations for Reepicheep, for Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace. The men wanted to talk, and for the first time in ages, since we had begun feasting on light, they were full of stories. For my part, I could not bring myself to say anything. I listened to each word, soaking up every detail of Lucy that I could._

_ When night came on, the crew looked at me expectantly. I decreed a night of rest after the celebrations, which everyone accepted easily enough. That night I tossed in my bunk, sleeping only fitfully. When I dreamt, I dreamt that I had let something important slip through my fingers and fall to the ocean floor. I could see it glinting there, fathoms below, but I could not see what it was. I woke up with a start when I realized that it was Lucy's cordial._

_ I leapt out of bed and tore the locker open to make sure it was still there. It was, of course, but I was confronted with all her things, carefully arranged and expectant. I turned away, leaving the locker open, and sank onto the bunk with my head in my hands._

_ The next morning I was saved from a decision due to lack of wind. By midday, though, the sails were flapping noisily, every man wandering idly and ready to start the journey. Still I could not give the command to go. I knew Lucy was gone, but I couldn't leave her behind. Even when Drinian came up to me and asked me point blank, I tarried awhile longer, replying vaguely "Not yet."_

_ Night came on. I had kept my post on the poop deck all day. Rhince was eyeing me strangely from his post at the tiller. I took my evening meal alone. Afterwards, Drinian made another essay._

_ "Your Majesty, there is a good, strong wind blowing. If it holds, we must set sail with the dawn. The men can bear it no longer. Their sights are all bent towards home."_

_ I scoffed. "Is no one an adventurer then? I thought more of our crew than that. I did not expect them to cry for home like children. Why, they are as good as Eustace when he first came aboard!"_

_ Drinian stiffened. "Begging your Majesty's pardon, but they only resent the idleness and the aimlessness. Every one of them is a brave and worthy soul."_

_ He looked at me keenly, and I sighed, my shoulders sagging. "You're right, of course. Your pardon, Drinian." I leaned against the rail and looked out over the lilies. "I suppose I'm just not ready to leave."_

_ Drinian laid a hand on my shoulder and said quietly "I'm sorry, your Majesty, but tarrying here will not bring them back. I might suggest you take comfort in the friends you still have here."_

_ I turned to give him a thin smile and covered his hand with my own._

_ "Perhaps your Majesty should get some rest," he offered._

_ "Perhaps," I agreed tonelessly. I turned and went below. I cast myself on the bed and watched the stars through the porthole, the stars that I had named with Lucy. I had been so sure about about a future with her. I knew I was going to go back to Narnia and win her heart and marry her. I couldn't even envision any other option, but now it appeared I had to._

_ My melancholy thoughts must have lulled me into sleep, because the next thing I knew was a pounding on my door and Rhince crying "Your Majesty! The captain begs your presence on deck straightaway."_

_ I frowned and threw the covers off me, pausing only to tug on my breeches under my nightshirt. What could be the cause of such urgency in these calm, uninhabited waters? No one had cried out like that in a fortnight at least. I climbed up on deck and found the entire crew leaning over the rails. I pushed my way to the front and leaned over._

_ What I saw was the last thing I expected, and I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. When I opened them again, though, the boat was still there with Lucy standing in the stern, beaming up at me._

_ I couldn't let myself believe she had returned until I wrapped my arms around her, held her close and felt the warmth of her, smelled her scent, heard her laugh. Even then it seemed surreal._

_ As she hugged me back, pressing close to me, she murmured, "It seems we are to be together a little while longer."_

_ I stepped back and cupped her face. "A little while indeed."_

_ She would not talk much about the edge of the world – none of them would. She told me about Reepicheep's departure, because I asked, and volunteered the best description she could make of the musical noise that came from the wave at the edge of the world. In the wistfulness of her voice I could almost hear the sound._

_ But she would not say what happened with Aslan, or why he sent her back. Only one night when we lay on deck alone together, counting the numberless stars, did she even give a hint of what had passed._

_ She traced the pattern of a constellation with her finger and sighed dreamily. "Do you know, in my world I can only name two or three constellations?"_

_ I glanced at her. "Truly? But you can name them all here."_

_ She turned onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow. "it's different there. They started out with legends, but then scientists muddied up the poetry. All the world's been explored there, so they're not needed for navigation. With electricity you can't even see them in the cities."_

_ I wondered what electricity was, but I thought that was a question better left to Edmund or Eustace. "Your world has its marvels though. It's round."_

_ "That's true. There are beautiful things about it, but this world feels like home. I feel like I belong here." She let her eyes roam over the velvet sky. "I wish it was my world."_

_ I blinked. "Isn't it? Now that you've come back."_

_ She turned to look at me and said softly. "Not forever. One day I shall have to go back."_

_ I felt a hammer blow to my chest. "When?"_

_ "I don't know. I only know that Aslan has said this is not my world, and the way to his country is through mine."_

_ I turned on my side to look at her full in the face. I would have to go through the loss a second time? How could she? And would she choose this path if it was her choice. She met my eyes and then turned her gaze to the stars once more. I thought from the look in her face that perhaps she would._

_

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_A/N: I'm not sure about this chapter-dragging out the drama too much? But I'll let it speak for itself. The next chapter starts to move the story forwards, so I hope you'll stay tuned. Thanks for reviews, thus far. They always make an author's day._  
_


	7. The Policy of Love

The Policy of Love

(Edmund)

There is something about pacing that is very calming. It must be done just right—not too fast as Peter does it, storming up and down halls and rattling his saber and pulling at his hair. No, it must be done slowly. Listen to the squelch of the supple leather of the boot and the slow, echoing tap on the stone floor. Feel the exact growth of the day's stubble in rubbing the face. Notice the dust motes dancing in the shaft of sunlight. Then, slowly, the world will right itself and the great problem will seem more manageable.

I was pacing for a long time, waiting for that moment. The problem facing us was of rather great proportions, as it combined personal happiness as well as the safety of the state. I never minded grappling with the security of Narnia—that was my specialty after all—but trying to manage human hearts as well made things very difficult and delicate. Despite being a legend of this time and a thousand years before, despite being quite pretty—even as her brother I had to acknowledge it, despite being Queen of Narnia and uncommonly clever and kind, the fact of the matter was that Lucy is simply not the sort of girl one courts. And nobody realized that. I doubted even Lucy realized it. She never had much experience with suitors the first time.

I had to admit, I was rather green when it came to managing proposals of love myself. That was something Peter handled. He wouldn't have it any other way, naturally, since the idea of Susan or Lucy marrying brought out his most protective streak. I was more than happy to sit in the background and play advisor if anything. Now, though, Peter was in England, probably still studying for that exam, and I was in Narnia taking on his role as marriage broker. Not my area of expertise, and that made me even more uncomfortable.

I made another slow circuit around the room, replaying the day before in my head. After Lord Sandron's departure, several of the lords from Caspian's Privy Council approached me. They made sweeping Telmarine bows when I looked up from my papers.

"My lord King, we would speak with you," the elder lord Sandron said. When I saw Lord Andarillo's cousin with him along with Lord Perano, our current suitor's father, I had an inkling of what this might be about. I folded my hands on top of my paper and raised my brows.

The others gave Sandron encouraging nods and he continued. "It is about your noble sister. And King Caspian."

The addition of Caspian surprised me. "And King Caspian?" I repeated.

"Yes. We—we believe he is standing in the way of our sons and cousins making a match with your sister."

My brows lifted and I rose to face them rather than asking them to sit down. "Gentlemen, I can assure you that the King does not stand in the way of the Queen's courtship. It is my will, as it was the will of the High King, that my sister should marry for love to a man of her own election."

Lord Perano, whose interest was most pressing, spoke up. "But how can she elect anyone if the King is always interfering?"

Lord Andarillo's cousin gave him a sharp look and said smoothly. "Of course, we would never suggest that the King is behaving inappropriately."

I shook my head and gestured that they should sit. "Gentlemen, we are not Telmarines. Narnians encourage free speech. If you are honest there is nothing to fear. So—you feel he interferes?"

Lord Sandron nodded emphatically. "Indeed. He encourages the Queen's wild side, he interrupts her private audiences with our young lords—in short, he makes things very difficult."

I leaned on the edge of my desk rather than sitting in the chair. "You feel my sister has a wild side?"

Lord Andarillo's cousin sought to pacify again. "She is very…untraditional. Not what we Telmarines are used to."

"I'm sure there are plenty of Telmarine ladies who would suit a young lord's more 'traditional' desires," I returned, inspecting my nails. "As for my sister, she is who she is, and I would not have her change." A thought occurred to me, and I decided to test it with them. I rubbed my chin. "It occurs to me that King Caspian is willing to accept her as she is. How if he married her?"

The three lords' faces darkened. Lord Sandron spoke an answer to my questioning look. "My lord King, we are loyal Narnians. We have lived in this land for generations. We have participated wholeheartedly in the unification, but we want a chance to participate in the new Narnia. Think—the Queen of Old marries a new Lord. It is a symbol of New Narnia. There are some who feel that King Caspian's reign has taken too much from the Telmarines. A marriage between Queen Lucy and one of our Lords would show this is not so."

"How many is 'some'?" I asked. "And do not mince words."

"A fair faction," Lord Perano answered.

"Are they openly disloyal?"

The three lords glanced at each other, and I realized they were loath to betray anyone. I sighed. "Never mind. I'm glad you told me."

I could see them all relax when I did not press them further. Lord Perano cleared his throat and finally said, "And King Caspian?"

"He is King of Narnia. I cannot command him." I spread my hands helplessly. "However—I will inform him of your sentiments."

This concluded the interview, although neither side was quite satisfied. I wanted to know if there was anything more to what the lords were saying about unfairness to the Telmarines and whether it amounted to anything. For their part, I am sure they wanted me to issue an edict for Caspian to keep away from my sister. I wasn't stupid enough to do it, though. Even if I managed to curb Caspian, Lucy would seek him out. I was never quite certain of my sister's feelings for the King. All I knew was that she was very attached to him, as a friend if nothing else. And Lucy's relationships had certainly never followed rules of any sort.

I did make good on my word—to an extent. I warned Caspian off Lucy subtly, using the strength of the promise he made to me so long ago. I intruded on their private moments; I called Caspian away from the suitors. I realized the whole thing had to be played very delicately or Caspian would flare up.

Lucy was another matter entirely. Of course I could see the advantages of her marrying a Telmarine lord, completing the unification of Narnia, binding her to the country once more. The problem was, all those thoughts were purely political. When she came to my room and ranted her exasperation I felt guilty for ever thinking that way. Lucy was no pawn, and she hated suitors and being doted on.

"I can't bear it, Edmund!" she raved one afternoon, pacing up and down my chambers. "The bad poetry, the flowers, the music…that would be tolerable if they didn't keep talking about plans and what they want to do once we're married. What about me? Don't I have a say? I used to!"

I twisted my mouth. "Narnia's changed, Lu."

She stopped and looked at me. "But I haven't." The ferocity went out of her, and she drifted over to the window, fiddling with the curtain. I watched her and saw the sudden sadness steal over her as it frequently did when she thought of suitors.

I sighed in sympathy and poured her a goblet of Archen wine. I got up and pressed it into her hand. "Take a drink. You look as though you could use it."

She smiled thinly and took a sip. Then she looked into the cup and watched the viscous red liquid swirl around. "It's not just that. I can't bear to think of getting married again."

I pressed my lips together and nodded. I knew she was thinking of Corin. She didn't even have to say. I waited. I wasn't sure what to say to comfort her, but the easy thing about Lucy is that she always wears her heart on her sleeve. There is no uncomfortable digging and probing as I sometimes needed for Peter and Susan. Lucy simple comes out and says what the matter is.

She motioned for a goblet of her own, and I delivered it to her. She spent a few minutes drinking and watching the wine in her goblet. "I miss him. Everything. I want to laugh with him again, or tell him I love him, or spend another night with him. I hate that we left so much unsaid." She swiped her eyes with the crook of her finger and looked into her glass.

Lucy is not one who likes to cry alone. Although I'm the opposite, I knew to tuck myself into the window seat facing her, and to reach out and hold her hand. She squeezed mine gratefully in return. "Please make them go away," she entreated, looking at me. "I can't bear to think of him anymore. Not like this. Not on a daily basis. I don't know how to get over the fact that he's gone. How do you mourn someone who's been dead two thousand years?"

I could not imagine, and the thought of a grief so great it was beyond the scope of my comprehension moved me to pity. I put my arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head on mine. After a few minutes, she started to cry quietly, and I let her. What else was there to do? Together we remembered wordlessly her great love with Corin of Archenland—all they did to be together, the child they shared, the fear when he was ill and could not be cured by her cordial. A score of years of laughter, their brightness, their joy. Funny how romantic love depends on physical closeness. I had Peridan, but he was only a best friend. I missed him, but I did not mourn him. At least, not with the same ache that filled Lucy.

In the bald light of the next morning, however, the problem was more perplexing. Lucy had asked me to call off the suitors. I had to comply; that much was obvious. If I didn't, and Peter knew, he would have my head. Furthermore, it wouldn't do to see her so miserable.

Peter would have damned diplomacy and called them off. That sort of thing seemed to work very well for him because he followed his instincts, and he had the trust of the people. This was a different Narnia, and I wasn't sure we could win the diplomatic battle.

So I was pacing, waiting for some light of inspiration, the click where everything started to make sense. The flash did not come, and I had to think my way through the thing, piece by piece.

Obviously the very first order of business was to call Caspian off. If she wouldn't have any of the lords, then Caspian couldn't be hanging off her every minute of the day. I went to seek him out, and found him with my sister—naturally. They were playing chess on the terrace overlooking the sea, and chess was the usual affair it was for them—twirling pieces in the air and talking. I itched to stride forward and move Caspian's castle, but I hung back for a moment, watching them. Caspian's voice was carried away by the sea wind, but whatever he said made Lucy laugh. Her laugh was loud and bright enough that I could hear her, removed as I was. She leaned closer to Caspian to reply, and her fingers brushed his wrist. I narrowed my eyes. How could she be uncertain about Caspian? Her love for him was written so plainly across her face. I couldn't understand why she didn't lean over the chessboard and kiss him, as she so clearly wanted to do, as she had wanted to do half a dozen times at least since her birthday.

When he replied he turned his hand over and returned her slight caress. His face was alight, his eyes fixed on hers. There was an undeniable electricity between them, a thrill that made them lean closer to each other. Their words were empty, insignificant. What mattered was the way the smiles played on their lips, the warmth in their eyes, the rich, low tone of their voices. I knew my strengths—I was a consummate diplomat because I could read people. Yet even Eustace could read what was going on here. She held his gaze, glowed under it, but then withdrew and started arranging his chess pieces that she had captured, teasing him about the loss. As she withdrew, his eyes flashed with disappointment, but that was soon replaced by a hunger in his expression. The lightning change of moods between them was fascinating. I remarked how interesting it was that two such constant people could suddenly be as changeable as the sea.

Caspian fell to contemplating his next move, and as he studied the board, Lucy picked up the captured knight and weighed it in her hand. It was the same knight that Susan had found by the well when we returned to Cair Paravel and found it in ruins. Caspian, mad for relics of the Golden Age, had built an entire chess set around it. Now Lucy weighed it in her hand.

Caspian moved his piece with a definitive clunk and called her from her reverie. She looked up at him, and for a moment her gaze was misty. That lasted a mere second before she blinked, clearing it, and dangled her own piece in the air before planting it on the board and announcing "Check." She laughed merrily at Caspian's stupefaction, and I saw that perhaps I understood her conflicted heart more clearly than she did. But that was always the way—because I was a step removed, I could sit back and examine people's emotions while they themselves were under the spell of them.

Obviously the suitors had to end altogether. Lucy needed some time on her own. I thought about taking the blame on myself, declaring that I thought her unfit for marriage just yet, that she had some growing up to do or had to become a lady or something—I could play to the Telmarines' sense of manner and orders and what women should be like. Lucy would probably get angry at me for suggesting such a thing, but I had to keep the piece and make her happy. She would thank me later. Of course, that left the problem of Caspian. He would have to be curbed too, and I thought of how to go about this. It was a far more delicate task dealing with one man than a score of grumbling Telmarine lords.

I decided to tackle the issue on a horseback ride. I thought about talking to him after practicing in the tiltyard, but then I thought that angering Caspian around weapons was probably not a very good idea.

The morning was cool and crisp, and the forest as we rode through it was very green. Caspian was looking all around with wide eyes, and I had to admit, he reminded me of Lucy. "It's funny to think I used to be afraid of the forest," he said, shaking his head.

"How could you know the truth? You grew up with the superstitions of your ancestors?"

"Mmm. I feel that I lost some time, though. Look at what I could have enjoyed! The whisper of the leaves, the springy moss beneath my horse's feat so that it feels I am riding on air, the chattering brook…it's all very alive."

"Lucy used to call it the Green," I commented softly. "She understood it in a way that none of the rest of us could. Except our nephew, Susan's son. Dash understood it, perhaps even better than Lucy."

Caspian looked at me. "Susan had a son?"

"And a husband, whom she loved deeply. She grieved the loss of him greatly—still does."

"Hm." Caspian reflected on this, touching his fingers to his lips. He might have been thinking about his flirtation with Susan when we first met him, how there had been more to that than he could have known.

"We lived here a long time," I reminded him, eyeing him carefully. I sensed an opportunity to broach the subject of Lucy.

"Yes, I know that," he answered. "Just the stories that survive talk of great deeds and great hours for Narnia. Legends seem to forget that the heroes are human."

"Very much human," I said softly. A shiver passed over me. It could have been the cool breeze, but it could also have been a reminder of my own very human moment, and the witch's temptation. "All four of us."

Caspian pulled on his reins and looked at me. "What of Lucy, then? What is her human story?"

I shook my head. "That's for her to tell you. But it does make me think, Caspian—these suitors have got to go."

"Finally you are seeing sense! I have thought that since Andarillo appeared."

"_All_ the suitors, Caspian."

"Yes, all the suitors. I agree with you!"

I shook my head. "I mean yourself included."

Caspian glowered. "I do not court her! You bound me to a promise and I held to it. I do not speak of my feelings, I do not press for her hand, or ask anything of her."

"Yes—technically." Caspian's face darkened further, so I explained. "You restrain from pressing your suit in words, but you are free with everything else. These fellows that come to court her don't stand a chance next to the attentions you lavish on her."

Caspian lifted his chin defiantly. "And? They are not half worthy of her. She doesn't care for them."

"That may be, but _you_ should. They are your courtiers and your people."

He pursed his mouth and was silent for a minute as he loosened his reins so his horse could munch on some grass. "So you're saying we should just let them come, one after the other to plague her. And I can do nothing about it, not even pass my time in her company?"

"Quite the contrary. I want to call the suitors off. You're right—she doesn't care for them, and they are plaguing her. But if I call them off and you continue as you are, then it will seem as though I am playing favorites. They won't like it, Caspian. They're already making noises."

"Edmund, what you're asking me to do… I don't even know how to do it. I'm not playing games. I'm not purposefully courting Lucy. I'm only being her friend, as I have been since I pulled her onto the deck of the _Dawn Treader_."

I patted his arm. "Just give her a bit more space. She needs it. And remember, patience is always rewarded in the end." I turned my horse and rode ahead, leaving him some room to think.

I made the speech I planned to the Telmarines and said that my sister was too young, too green for marriage. She did not know how to be a proper wife, I told them. There was some grumbling, but a general agreement, and they filed away commiserating.

I dusted off my hands and began to gather my things, considering it a job well done until I heard a sharp cough in the corner. I knew without turning around that it was Lucy.

"You heard," I sighed.

"Yes, I heard! What _was_ that, Edmund? I'm too green for marriage? I don't know how to be a proper wife?"

I turned to face her. "What else was there for me to say? You wanted them to go away, didn't you?"

"I'd like to have kept my dignity intact." She pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest.

"Lucy…" I rubbed my temple.

"What, Edmund? How can you say those things when you know perfectly well that I was a wife for a score of years? A _good _wife, a devoted wife…" She tailed off.

"You can't honestly think I believe them. I know what you shared with Corin, but how am I going to tell them that? They can't wrap their heads around the idea that we lived a whole life before. Even Caspian can't. And even if they could, they would simply rejoice in the fact that you were fecund and expect you to breed."

She looked very weary suddenly, and curled into a chair. She curled her fingers over her mouth and shook her head. I waited, feeling my patience scraping thin. At last she said, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing they're gone. I don't think I could have borne them a moment more."

"By any means necessary?" I asked, raising a brow.

"By any means necessary," she answered, reaching out to cover my hand with hers. "Because now we can have some peace."

For a moment I believed it was true.


	8. The Clear Sight of Memory

_The Clear Sight of Memory_

_(Edmund)_

I've always been rather proud of my memory. I can recall the tiniest details of moments—I, like Susan, always believed that the truth of life is in the details. Peter and Lucy were always big picture people—they believed life is a series of thunderclaps and big revelations. I find it comforting that there can be significance in the small things; even if one doesn't have a grand, glorious life, it can still be worth something.

A strong memory is a useful tool. I had used it countless times in diplomacy and strategy. Now, however, I found myself culling through my recollections of Caspian and Lucy's history to see what truth I could mine from it.

_Greeting_

_ When we were pulled out of the sea, there was no way of knowing what they would begin together. Caspian greeted Lucy as he greeted me—we were friends, comrades in arms, happy to be in one another's company again. Lucy looked like a real kid with her braids and her sodden dress making her scrawnier than usual._

_ We got dry and slipped into Narnian clothes. I swung my shoulders, glad to have them free of the constricting seams of my British clothes. I remember that tunic, how soft and rich it was, even for sea clothes. When I slipped it on I didn't even need to see my reflection. I knew I looked more like myself than I had in years._

_ Caspian was leaning on the wall outside the door eating an apple, a glint in his eye. He tossed the apple away when he saw me. "You look merry, your Majesty."_

_ "I feel merry," I answered, tugging on the tunic. "After all, I am home."_

_ "Home indeed. Shall we go see how your sister fares?" he asked._

_ I nodded, breathing in the sharp, warm smell of the belly of a ship at sea. We strode to the cabin door and Lucy emerged. Caspian's tunic was down to her knees, and she kept her wet hair in braids. Caspian smiled when he saw her in his clothes._

_ He spread out the map and we heard of the voyage and its purpose, ignorant then of how the journey would bind us together. We asked him about Narnia and he spoke eagerly of the country that he had begun to reforge._

_ "And in that time, have you found a queen?" Lucy asked. I turned to look at her suddenly. She was touching her cheek in that odd way I had seen her do before, in Cambridge._

_ "No," Caspian answered, twisting his mouth. He looked down at the map and there was something wistful in his face. When Drinian spoke of the tournament in Galma and he dismissed the Duke's daughter, he wrinkled his nose rejecting her._

_ Was that the beginning? I don't think so. Caspian longed for something more, but he couldn't name it. Lucy wanted something, but she didn't know she wanted Caspian. She couldn't have fallen in love then, even secretly._

_Separation _

_No, it wasn't until the Lone Islands that anyone could tell there might be something more between them. That night as we lay chained in the hold of Pug's ship with a dozen other sad Lone Islanders and the sniveling Eustace, I heard Lucy weeping._

_ Lucy is not exactly a stranger to sadness. She has cried before, and mourned, even, but I have only heard her weep with fear and despair once before, when she was worried about the life of her son. I inched toward her as best I could and reached out to touch her. "Lu."_

_ "Oh, Ed. I can't bear it." Her voice trembled with fear._

_ I twisted my mouth. "It'll be alright. We'll find a way out of here." I paused and added "We've been through worse before. What about Anvard?"_

_ She sniffled. "I'm not crying for me. I just—I don't know what's happened to Caspian. He's all on his own, Ed. At least we're together. Caspian is all alone. I can't bear the thought of him alone and afraid."_

_ "He's a king, Lu. He can take care of himself." I try to assure her with logic._

_ She shook her head. "It's not like with us. He doesn't have someone who loves him, who is waiting for him to come home. If you have that, it brings you home. Caspian needs someone, Ed."_

_ When Caspian stormed the slave market the next day and we were reunited, I couldn't help but notice the look on his face as he held Lucy's shoulders and looked her over. He seemed weak with relief, and he handled her gently. For her part, she curled her small hands around his wrist and met his anxious eyes with the same expression in her own. _

_ All throughout the day Caspian sought Lucy out, talking with her and purchasing little gifts for her to make sure she was in good cheer and not thinking about her brief moment of captivity. In those early days he could not know Lucy's iron resilience. _

_ I do not think those moments in Narrowhaven were much of anything themselves, but looking back I see they were a precursor. In those attentions and interchanges were the foundation of what was to come. _

_Dance_

_ The dance was what made me look at them twice. He twirled her on the deck under the stars, but she led the dance. She danced with all of us; that dance with Caspian did not need to carry any special significance. But it did. It was not just the way he held her. It was the way she responded to his touch, stepping closer to him unconsciously. It was the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. It was the way she tipped her head back and tossed her hair. It was the way in that moment she grow from a kid to a girl to a woman, full of light and life. In that dance I saw no trace of Lucy Pevensie, but all Lucy the Valiant._

_ Eustace, who was far more amenable now that he was undragoned, leaned over to whisper to me. "I say—you can really see that she's a queen, can't you?"_

_ "I've never not been able to see it," I observed with a little smile._

_ "Yes. Well. I didn't know all this time. But it's rather striking now."_

_ I had to agree. In that simple, rhythmic circle round the deck I saw him restore her to who she was. I saw the partnership they could create, dancing in time._

_Laughter_

_ After I saw her dance and become the Queen she was all over again, I heard her laugh. I was coming down below on a night when a soft rain was falling. From the stern cabin I heard Lucy and Caspian's soft voices. Caspian chuckled, and then Lucy laughed. Poets wrote songs about Susan's beauty, but all of Narnia could dance to Lucy's laugh. It is so rich, bright, and musical, that it is unrestrained joy. I smiled to hear the sound I had not heard since the Golden Age, when we were Kings and Queens and so happy. I thought about going in to share in it, but I heard the murmur of Caspian's voice, and I thought I would let her have this moment just with him. I marveled that he had pulled it from her._

_Understanding_

_ Towards the end of our journey East, we came upon Ramandu's land. It was a stunning sight, that sharp black shape stenciled against the crimson sky. We all felt the poetry of the moment, but only Lucy dared speak of it. I said it was rot. I can't speak in poetry—when I do, it feels so silly, it ruins the spell. But Caspian not only knew what Lucy meant, he said it aloud. She looked up at him, and he down at her, and there passed between them a look of real understanding such as I've rarely seen anybody share with one another. Everyone longs for this kind of understanding, and she held it in the palm of her hand._

_Longing_

_ She kissed him when we believed it was farewell. There was no passion in the kiss, but there was love. She knew then, and in that moment she let herself believe._

What I wondered was now that it was not a lingering parting but a real possibility, would she let herself have it?

* * *

A/N: I *am* going to finish this story, dang it! If you are feeling kind, please leave a review as they cheer me up and an NYC blizzard is ruining my vacation. I was supposed to be in England right now. :( Big thanks to those of you who have been faithful readers, and reviewers as well.


	9. All the Wrong Books

All the Wrong Books

(Eustace)

**14 June**

So. Now there is to be no more suitors, but Caspian cannot say anything to Lucy either. It's not as if I know why—no one ever tells me anything. And it's not as if I understand all these rules about honor and courtship that Caspian and Edmund seem to be so hung up on.

At least Lucy seems happier, and I suppose that's something. Upon further reflection, realized that disappearance of suitors is better for everyone. L. less anxious, and C. much less moody—thank Aslan for that. We have resumed training again, and now I am not so bad because I have been doing so much work on my own while all this courtship mess was going on. E said I would be a clever fighter. Is this a compliment? Isn't it better to be strong, like C.?

Am always feeling like I'm missing something. I don't understand why. Have been here three years now, one would think I'd have the hang of things by now. Apparently not.

Find myself missing Reep an awful lot. Know he could explain all this to me—he was always on about chivalry and adventure.

I don't forget how he sat with me when I was a dragon and told me stories.

**16 June**

Decided could not sit around forever. Reep is in Aslan's country and I still need to know what it means to be a man, a knight, a noble. So I went to E, who is always pretty good in a pinch.

He listened, and then he leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together. "You want to learn the rules of chivalry?"

Thought that was what I had just said, but decided to bite my tongue. "Exactly."

"Why now?"

Didn't think that should matter, but answered him anyway. "Because all this stuff with Lucy doesn't make any sense. Why couldn't she just throw all the suitors out? Why did you have to make the ruling, and when you did, why did you have to make her so helpless and silly?"

"Telmarine chivalry is not quite the same as Narnian chivalry. They take the same form and use the same gestures, but the idea at heart is different. The Telmarines practice it to establish power and hierarchy. The Narnians practice it to show honor and love. That is particularly evident in the differences."

"So which were you using when you kicked out the suitors?" I retorted.

He rubbed his face. "Eustace—"

"Look you've got about a hundred rules and I'm just supposed to magically know them? I live in this world, don't I? I'm sick of sticking out like a sore thumb."

"It's not that easy to explain."

"Because I haven't read the right books," I huffed. I do try to stop sulking, but you know, sometimes it's very hard.

Was about to turn away when E. conceded, "I suppose even Peter had to learn."

So there's something the High King Peter wasn't born doing. Everyone talks about him with such reverence it's hard to think he's the same person as my bossy older cousin. Suppose though that I never really thought of him as a King or anything like that. Should like to see him now to find out.

"How did he learn then?"

"We had a tutor. He must have written down all the rules. I seem to remember something of that sort—but it's most likely gone." To his credit, he actually did look sorry, but it didn't get me any closer to figuring out answers.

**17 June**

C. found me today when I was sulking (really am trying not to) and wanted to know what was the matter. Didn't want to tell him about the chivalry thing. C. is ordinarily v. gracious, but sometimes he finds it v. funny when I don't know something he got taught as a kid. Would be alright I suppose, if I could laugh at him in return for not knowing what a lift is or about trains and automobiles, but everyone seems to think that sort of stuff is completely useless. I wonder why.

Anyway, wound up telling him that E. had told me about some interesting documents from the Golden Age and I'm sorry they're lost.

C. smiled like he does when he has a great surprise up his sleeve. He loves surprises more than anyone I know—except maybe Lucy.

"They're not all lost," he said. "Come with me."

Followed him to one of the wings of the castle that wasn't finished. You'd think the whole thing would be finished by now, but Rome really wasn't built in a day.

C. opened some doors and we were in a mostly completely library.

"I had hoped it would be finished by Lucy's birthday, but we are a few months behind schedule."

There were shelves and shelves of books, rows of documents. "A library?"

"The original castle had one. See?" he led me over to a plan of the castle. It must have been the original because the paper looked very old.

"We found this when excavating," C. said proudly. "It's got markings for defense against a siege Whoever made these notes is a brilliant strategist. I don't see how Cair Paravel could have fallen to Caspian the Conqueror with this plan." He frowned a bit. "He must have been utterly ruthless."

"Or the attack happened after this person, whoever they are, was dead and gone."

I could see C. ready to go on a Telmarine guilt trip, but this stopped him in his tracks, at least for the moment.

"So the library?" I had to get him back on track. Caspian tends to go off on tangents if you give him the chance.

"Ah-yes. Once we found this, we started looking for more. And once we started looking, we found more and more documents, many dating back to the Golden Age, or just past it. The Narnians hid manuscripts for generations—it was really quite extraordinary what they were brought in. And now we have this." He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the library with a lordly air. V. proud of himself.

"Lucy's going to love this," I said, deciding to tease him.

Didn't work, though, because he just blushed and colored up and said, "I do hope so. Anyway, have a look around. I hope you find what you're looking for." He clapped my shoulder and left.

**18 June**

Spent most of the day looking through manuscripts. Was glad to practice swordplay and stretch for a bit in the afternoon. Horrible crick in neck.

**19 June**

Found nothing. Spent three hours looking through laws on farming.

**20 June**

Still nothing. Find it horribly hot in the library. C. needs to look into getting some windows open for air.

C. asks as though everything in here is fascinating. Hate to disappoint him but never read anything duller than census of Shuddering Wood.

Just remembered that back in England would have loved this kind of book. Wonder if I'm becoming more Narnia than I thought. Interesting.

**21 June**

Was going through the library methodically but gave up out of impatience. Pulled out the book that reminded me most of Reepicheep. It has a carved wooden cover. It is a diary of a King of Narnia—Lucien. Wonder if that's because of Lucy.

**22 June**

Like this Lucien fellow v. much. He says things like "Narnian should not fall into lawlessness with the Four gone. We must write down the laws such as they are, preserve them. Of course, we must find a way to do this systematically." Find the sheer thoroughness and organization v. refreshing. Am sure he will give me some answers.

A bit more reading reveals that he was also the one to do the defense schematics. Clearly a person of a very scientific mind.

**24 June**

Am not learning as many facts as desirable from King Lucien, but am liking him v. much. Know that he wrote the book am looking for—he talks about it, all about the rules of chivalry and knighthood—but don't really want to stop reading the journals. Feel as though he and I would understand each other.

Sounds as though he could use a friend. He's in love with some Anna person but she's in love with his cousin Ram, who is flashy and handsome and pompous if Lucien's accounts are to be trusted (and I think they are, given how accurate he always is). He had an uncle too, who seems to have died in some accident with his mother. He seems to miss them both terribly. They really understood him, and with them gone he really feels misunderstood. Know that feeling.

Also he had this cousin, Dash, who's always showing him up. Dash is King too—guess they tried to keep the four thrones thing going for awhile.

**25 June**

Turns out Anna is queen too—and his cousin. Can't imagine falling in love with L. or Susan, honestly, but I suppose it's one of those Narnian things. Happens in England too—Queen Victoria's children were always marrying cousins etc.

It's a shame he can't be with the girl he loves. Am starting to think love only serves to complicate things. But then—Lucien seems to feel the same way but he can't help being in love. So maybe love isn't something you can really guard against, even if it is completely nonsensical.

If that's so, C & L should just be together already and deal with whatever people say. Which is why I'm reading the diaries in the first place—to try and understand.

**26 June**

Cannot believe how dense I am. Lucien always writes about his uncle and mother, and Dash is a cousin through an aunt, and Anna a cousin through an uncle. It's all so obvious now that I know. Can't believe I didn't before that his uncle is Edmund and his mother is Lucy. Took me until he mentioned his uncle by name for me to see.

Decided I would talk to Lucy about all this. She would probably want to know, I reasoned. There's no point in keeping people in the dark.

She was sitting alone reading on the terrace. L still looks so _young_. Remember finding out she was a queen and could hardly believe it. But now to think she was a mother…this might be the most unbelievable part of Narnia.

She looked up and said right away I looked like I had something on my mind. Is it that obvious, really?

So I told her: "You have a son. Lucien."

She went all pale and wanted to know, so I told her. She took it and opened it in her lap and stared at a page for a full five minutes. It would have looked strange to anyone else, watching her stare at the book like that without reading it, but I could see why, I think.

"Where did you find this?" she asked. Her voice was a bit funny.

"There were some papers around." I had promised C. I wouldn't tell about the library. But now have to lie to keep the promise. Which one is wrong? That's the puzzle.

She pressed her fingers to her lips and stroked the page. "He was my son." Then she sniffed.

Hate it when people cry. It's always so awkward, standing there unsure of what to do. Couldn't really blame L. though, so I said what people always say. "Don't cry, Lu."

"I'm sorry. I can't help it," she said, wiping her eyes. "I loved him so much. He was my little boy, but he grew up and died a thousand years ago."

You really have to wonder what Aslan's doing sometimes. I'm sure *he* knows, but in moments like this it's v. puzzling for the rest of us. L. was getting more and more upset, so I reached for the book. "I'm sorry," I told her. "I probably shouldn't have shown this to you."

She hugged the book to her chest. "No. I'm glad you did. So glad. I always wanted to know what happened to him, how he grew up."

Couldn't bring myself to tell her that it didn't seem like Lucien was very happy. But I guess she'll see for herself.

**27 June**

L. has been v. thoughtful all day and has kept to herself. She begged off sword practice. C. asked me what was wrong but didn't think I should tell him. Don't think she even told E. because he seems v. confused.

This is strange. Thought L told E everything. Even more, am quite sure that E is the uncle Lucien was so close to. Can't imagine it would be Peter—Lucien and Edmund are much more alike.

**28 June**

L. alone again today. Finally saw her walking down the beach and decided to go and talk to her. Figured if she didn't want me she'd just tell me.

She didn't talk to me, but she didn't tell me to go away either. She still had that sad look as she continued down the beach, so I decided to tell her what I had been thinking. "I liked him. I wish I could have known him."

She was quiet for awhile, and then she said, "He would have really liked you. He was very exact and precise and literal."

"Is that what you're saying about me?" This sounded suspiciously like Lucy's way of saying I only like dull books about the formation of mountains or similar.

She swept her skirts along the sand. "It's not an insult, you know. He wanted to understand everything. You couldn't leave a question of his unanswered. He would ask it again and again in his little voice…" She turned back to me. "I always think of him when he was tiny. That was when he would let me cuddle him."

Asked how old he was when she left. She told me sixteen. I pointed out this was the same age we are.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "Yes. It's funny, isn't it?" Only it didn't seem funny at all. Can't fathom what that must be like, to go back to a time when you are younger than your own child.

Now that I think about it, should probably have stayed quiet and let her think a bit longer. But then at the same time, she's spent an awful lot of time thinking. "You say that Lucien was like me," I said.

"Mmm." This was a kind of yes, I suppose.

"Everyone laughs that I'm so literal."

"Lucien wouldn't have," she assured me.

"No. And did anyone laugh at him?"

"Sometimes he was funny, with all his questions. But no one laughed at him."

He was a knight, and a king. And if he could have it all make sense, then so can I.

**3 July**

Finally showed L. the library. She was begging to see where I had found the journal and wanted to find more. Am sure there are more. From everything she's said, Lucien's a prolific writer. Wonder what made him write so much. Wonder what makes me write so much, other than habit.

C. wanted to surprise her. But he doesn't know about this. At least I told her that C. meant it as a surprise.

"I have to know," she said with a shake of the head.

When I opened the doors to the library though, her face changed. L. could always see more than what was there. In the half constructed library, she saw the same vision that made C. so lordly about the whole affair. "Caspian was building this for me?" she whispered.

"He thought you would like to see what remained of your time."

Instead of answering, she went forward, examining the stacks. I went in the other direction, looking for Lucien's books. I had just found them, when L. gave a cry of surprise. I rushed over with the stacks of journals in my arms to find her standing by a crate of paintings.

"Look," she said, tugging one out. "Peridan's portraits. It's us."

The portrait she had pulled out was an incredible likeness of her, so I can only guess it must have been a good one of the other two subjects. L. looked a slight bit older, but otherwise exactly the same, and she was standing next to a blond fellow who was so tall and broad he made C. look puny. He had a huge messy mane of curly hair and a broad smile. Between them was a boy of about twelve who was also blond, almost white blond, and whose features were almost entirely the man's, but he had Lucy's eyes.

"Corin and Lucien," I said.

She nodded eagerly and proudly. They looked as though they were about to laugh. I saw what people mean when they say there's laughter in someone's eyes.

Then I showed her the journals and we started reading. I started reading about when he was learning to be a knight. L. was still around then, and he would sometimes talk about how silly she was with her husband. Probably that means she was v. happy with him.

"Huh," she said softly. When I looked up she as touching the page with a barmy smile on her face.

Of course I had to ask what it was, although why people go through that rigamarole of sighing or smiling and waiting for people to ask to say what it is I don't know.

L. showed me the book, and I saw that Lucien was waxing poetic about a Marianne.

"I thought he was in love with Anna," I observed.

"He was. But…maybe it's not so simple that you can love only one person."

I looked at her keenly, and she looked away.

Went back to flipping pages until a question niggled at me. "He talks about you and Corin, but did Edmund ever fall in love?"

She shook her head. "No, he never did. I don't know why—maybe he's too guarded."

"Don't you think you are?" I countered. This is all getting a bit much, that she doesn't see what's really going on.

Of course she didn't like that. "Eustace. I don't know what you mean. Aren't we talking about my son and my husband?"

"I mean with Caspian." Sometimes you have to spell everything out for people.

She clammed up then and went quite pale.

I suppose I shouldn't have kept on, but I couldn't help it. "You must realize how he feels, Lu. He built you this library, and the way he looks at you, and seeks to be with you—"

She put up her hand. "Eustace, don't—"

"But you have to hear it! You have to know. And—and you have to know how you feel." Really, it all seems so very simple to me.

"Stop! I can't think about this. Don't you see? I was married! I had a son. The only regret I have about that marriage is that we couldn't grow old together. And you want me to think about someone else. Why don't you sell me off to one of those Telmarine Lords?""

"But he's not just a Telmarine Lord! He's Caspian." How she could not see what was going on in front of her face, I don't know.

"I'm married to Corin," she insisted. She shut the book in front of her with a clap and stalked out of the room. Case closed.

**4 July**

Today L. didn't talk to me. Read Lucien's journals alone. At lunch I heard her ask C. to go for a ride.

**5 July**

L & C practiced archery together today. Find that I want her to fall in love with him. We've all been waiting for it so long already, and C. is getting into quite the state.

**6 July**

L & C went rowing today. Heard them talking about when she came when he was trying to overthrow Miraz and she rescued Trumpkin on this beach. They were laughing quite a lot.

However, later saw her reading Lucien's stuff again and looking v. sad. Went to talk to her, but she avoided me. Maybe she's mad. That's stupid though. She had to face the truth sometime.

**8 July**

Yesterday more of the same—L. reading and then talking with C. E asked if I knew what was up with L & I told him about the journals and everything. Then_ he_ grew thoughtful.

Finally today a breath of fresh air. Literally because past weeks have been v. still and hot, and figuratively because it's been the same thing for ages around here.

There was a breeze today and a ship came into the harbor. Drinian was back from a diplomatic mission C sent him on before L's birthday.

"Your mission was meant to be a month long!" C teased as he greeted Drinian with open arms.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty. I was detained against my will," Drinian answered, grinning.

Here C looked alarmed, and Drinian laughed. "Meet my captor, won't you? She's much more powerful than she seems." He reached behind him and drew a small woman forward. "This is my wife, Dara."

There was a general cry of surprise. No one saw this coming, Drinian was a confirmed bachelor, etc.

But it seemed to me that as he watched Drinian and Dara C looked wistful. Or maybe jealous. L was v. hard to read b/c she let herself exclaim over the couple and welcome Dara and plan a party. She didn't seem to think about herself.

**10 July**

When it rains it pours, I guess. Dara and Drinian were barely settled when the trumpets sounded and a whole troop of people came over the bridge. Turned out they were from Archenland, and at the head of the procession was the crown prince, who was tall and had v. curly blond hair.

Turned out that they didn't get the message about no suitors, because the prince was here for Lucy. When they made the announcement, C's jaw just about hit the floor, and then he started to look at Edmund, expecting him to shoo the Archen prince away. But E was looking at L.

L for her part was looking at Prince Cole as though she had seen a ghost. She stretched out her hand and said, "Welcome Cole to a castle which is always open to you and your people."

We had to be thinking the same thing.

He looks like Corin.

* * *

_A/N: Although the updates are taking awhile, I am not abandoning this story! What happens is I write longhand and then must type it over. That takes awhile when life is going on around you. :P_

_Thanks for all the reviews of the last chapter and good wishes. I did make it to England in the end, which was nice. And got Ben Barnes to sign my playbill when I went to see Birdsong, which was even nicer!_

_Your support of this story, even just through reading, means a lot to me. Hope you keep on truckin'._


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